


lets just say I'm glad he's mine

by quantumoddity



Category: A Charm of Magpies Series - K. J. Charles
Genre: Anal Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, I'll be honest this is self indulgent, M/M, Pets, Rimming, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, absolutely shameless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:34:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29184828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumoddity/pseuds/quantumoddity
Summary: There are a lot of things Crane never knew about Stephen's childhood, most of them unfortunately sad.So when he finds something he can actually fix, he leaps at the chance.Note: I see this happening somewhere in between A Case of Possession and A Flight of Magpies
Relationships: Stephen Day/Lucien Vaudrey
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	lets just say I'm glad he's mine

Stephen Day was a man full of surprises. 

Crane thought he’d sorted out the main ones- the powerful magic and danger contained in such a small, still fairly scrawny body, the strong and sure heart that beat behind his ribs; the mind that was like a magpie’s nest, full of random bits of information he’d clung to for no reason that would pop up at seemingly unconnected times; the fact that, for all his quiet, unassuming politeness and wide, golden eyed innocence, once Crane got him behind a closed bedroom door and naked between his silk sheets, he fucked like a cat in heat. 

He’d got a fair grasp on those in the time they’d been together, the loud, rushing, explosive moments when things were almost too much- the times Stephen had saved his life, their first time together as lovers, their stumbling, awkward confession of love that yet he still smiled like some twitterpated teenager to think about. Those times were when he realised just how surprising a man he’d fallen for.

But Crane was starting to realise he more appreciated the smaller surprises. The little, quiet ones that only came here, in the interludes between their adventures, the rest between the frantic bursts of danger and excitement that were probably sending him prematurely grey. Soft, unassuming, bemusing little things about Stephen that were still coming even after so long as partners, that he discovered as they held each other in the night, as they lolled about in his flat on lazy afternoons, as they sat and ate dinner together. Though quite a few sent a spike of sadness through him, being relics of Stephen’s hard and unhappy childhood or the lonely, isolated life he’d lead before meeting Crane, they still felt like precious gems uncovered on a long walk through some strange, unfamiliar but beautiful landscape and Crane still treasured each one. 

He was glad his lover was still surprising him. 

One came in the warm, bright afternoon in the middle of spring, as Stephen and Crane walked to spend some time at a teahouse that had become a favourite of theirs, for Stephen because he could eat cake until he slipped into a sugar induced coma, Crane because it was a calm, pleasantly caffeinated place to read and where the owner wouldn’t bat an eye if he took Stephen’s hand under the table. The place was often exclusively filled with pairs of gentlemen, he’d noticed amusedly. England and it’s assorted bigorties were grating on him more and more as time went on but it was gratifying to know they weren’t the only ones pushing back against them in their own quiet ways. 

They walked through bustling London streets, people deep in their own lives and their own stories flowing around them, barely noticing the two of them chatting companionably in low voices, definitely not noticing the invisible, magic wrought hand Stephen was using to clasp Crane’s fingers and run a thumb across his knuckles, all while his own stayed deep in his jacket pockets. 

Crane was doing most of the talking, updating Stephen on how some of his trades were going back in Shanghai and how his new ones were growing here in London. He very much knew that Stephen neither understood nor particularly cared but he listened as if he was riveted and asked questions here and there when he’d followed along enough, mainly just enjoying listening to his lover talk about something he cared about, finding something to engage him simply because Crane did. It was rather undeniably adorable of him. 

He was in the middle of telling him all about how he’d managed to find someone who dealt in the sweet plum wine he’d fallen in love with while he’d lived there and hadn’t had in months, when something jerked him out of his reverie. Quite literally, actually, as without any warning at all, Stephen lurched into the middle of the busy street, forgetting about the spectral hand that linked them together until he’d gone a few paces. It must have looked quite ridiculous and hard to explain, seeing all nigh on seven foot of Crane yanked off his feet by apparently nothing at all but, fortunately, no one seemed to be watching him as his knees hit the pavement. They were watching the same thing he was, though their horror wasn’t able to match Crane’s own. 

They were watching Stephen Day run right into the path of at least three carriages, all going in different directions. 

“Stephen!” Crane yelled, quite uselessly but the dreadful certainty that he was about to watch his lover crushed beneath rolling wheels and stamping hooves wretched it out of him. 

But there was another surprise, one he always forgot, that Stephen’s small size made him lightning fast. Maybe he was even using magic, it was hard to tell, as he nimbly dodged the oncoming carriages, slipped between them, plucked what seemed to be a bundle of rags from the middle of the road and ended up on the other side, no harm done to him other than the spectacularly filthy curses thrown at him by the drivers. 

Dumbfounded, Crane blinked, a hollowness in his chest now all the fear had evaporated so quickly. One thing he knew, as he got up and dusted down his suit, was that Stephen Day would be getting a damn good telling off and not the fun kind that happened behind his bedroom door. He could have been killed, pulling a stunt like that, and if he couldn’t produce a sufficient reason then Crane was going to have words. 

He was about to set a good, lordly scowl into his face when Crane saw, in between the blurs of the carriages rolling past, that the bundle in Stephen’s arms wasn’t rags at all. It was actually moving, squirming itself into the shape of a small dog, all ragged fur and large, wet eyes. And then there was a small girl in a dress quite worse for wear, nearly crying in relief as she ran up and accepted the dog from Stephen. Crane could hear snatches of their conversation, through the creaking wheels and the beat of the hooves and the people around him, moving on and muttering under their breaths that the red haired man must have been some kind of lunatic. 

“I’m so sorry, mister, he just got away from me-”

“It’s quite alright, I couldn’t have stood to see him hurt-”

“But you could have been-”

“-no trouble at all, really, I saw an opening-”

“Here, let me-”

“Oh, no, really, I can’t. Please, you keep it-”

Eventually, Crane watched as Stephen pulled a coin from his pocket and pressed it into the girl’s hands, sending her off on her way, alternating between frowning down at the naughty dog and waving gratefully at Stephen, who had a sort of wistful smile on his face. 

He must have seen the expression on Crane’s face because he smiled sheepishly and waited until there was a very clear and safe gap in the traffic before crossing back over to his lover’s side. 

“Um...I’m sorry about that,” he gave a hesitant smile. 

But Crane’s anger had evaporated, seeing his kindness with the young girl, and he could only shake his head, “I’m an old man, Stephen, you give me any more heart attacks like that and you’re going to kill me.”

“You are not,” Stephen snorted, clearly relieved that he wasn’t in trouble, that they were falling back into step like none of it had happened, “You’re only a little older than me.”

“Still. Do not do anything as foolish as that again. We’re almost killed often enough without you adding to it by risking a broken neck for some dog.”

Stephen seemed to take some offence at that, his shoulders tightening, “I wasn’t about to just let him get killed. And it’s not just  _ some  _ dog, he’s that girl’s pet. He might be the only friend she has in the world for all we know.”

Crane’s eyebrows shot up. Not at Stephen biting back at him, they were forever bickering over something, his lover being held together by spit and pride as Merrick had so helpfully observed. But it was the cause of his righteous anger that made Crane pause a moment, putting together the pieces behind his eyes. 

“Very well. Poor choice of words, I apologise,” he shrugged, “It was rather heroic of you, I’d just prefer it if your heroics didn’t risk several broken bones, alright?”

Stephen coloured, “I know. I’m sorry too.”

Crane let the subject drop until they reached the teahouse, until they were sitting comfortably in their usual spot against the back wall, in comfortable leather armchairs. Stephen fell on the cakes with his usual enthusiasm, he must have been using magic back in the street given how hungry he was. The place smelled of oak and tea, as usual, and Crane shook the last of his adrenaline with a good cup of green tea, something they hadn’t even served here until he’d asked for it. 

It reminded him of home, of Shanghai, the way it’s warmth and gentle, sweet flavour brought back nights when the cup of tea in front of them in some dingy, smoke filled teahouse was all he and Merrick had been able to afford to keep themselves going until the next day. It wasn’t the hunger that he remembered fondly, or the fear, but the warm, comforting feeling of the tea in his stomach and the knowledge that he could keep going. 

After half a cup, he was content and comfortable. And curious. 

“So...you’re rather fond of animals?” he hummed conversationally, watching as Stephen drank the thick, overly sweetened coffee he was addicted to. Dan Gold would have palpitations if he could see. 

“Hm?” Stephen blinked and caught the thread of the conversation, “Oh, yes. I suppose.”

He blushed a little, which with his pale skin and red hair immediately turned into blushing a lot, probably thinking that powerful practitioners and upholders of the law shouldn’t have soft spots for animals. 

“Did you have a pet when you were younger?” Crane tilted his head and smiled. It would be good to hear something nice about Stephen’s childhood, something he treasured. Something his own family hadn’t taken and torn apart. 

“I didn’t,” Stephen admitted, his blush getting worse, “But I wanted one desparatley. I must have asked for a puppy every single birthday.” 

Crane grinned playfully but inside he was softening at the image of a tiny little boy with a mop of red curls and golden eyes that didn’t have worry lines around them yet, “Wouldn’t a cat have been more appropriate for a witch?”

Stephen smirked at that, “Oh hush. Practitioners don’t keep black cats and we don’t fly around on broomsticks either.” 

“More’s the pity, you could get home to me much faster after work...but you never had a dog?”

“No,” Stephen shrugged, “Our tenement wouldn’t let us keep pets and, well, they never said it in so many words, but I don’t think we could afford another mouth. Especially after...well, by then..”

He trailed off into a sad kind of silence, pulling a cake to crumbs anxiously until sugar crusted his fingers. Crane could fill in the gaps for himself, as much as he didn’t like it. Especially after  _ the Vaudreys ruined my father’s reputation and made us destitute.  _ Well, by then  _ we had nothing but shame to our names and my parents were dead.  _

He reached over and put his hands gently on Stephen’s wrists, freezing his restless fingers in place. His lover’s eyes darted around the rest of the teashop anxiously but no one was paying them any mind, sitting in their cosy little corner. Part of Crane’s mind wondered if he could get away with licking the icing off Stephen’s long fingers. Probably not. 

“You did a very good thing today,” Crane said gently, “And I am proud of you, for all the years you probably took off my life.”

“God, you’re dramatic…” Stephen rolled his eyes but he was smiling, drawing back and looking much more comfortable. He licked the crystalized sugar from his fingers and, as much as Crane had wanted to do it himself, seeing his lover’s quick, clever tongue running across his skin was a lovely sight in itself. 

“Glad you noticed. Now finish up, this is the first afternoon you’ve had off in living memory and I don’t intend to spend any more of it clothed than we have to.”

Stephen’s eyes brightened and he hid a smile behind the rim of his cup, “Normally I have to drag you out of here. Lost your taste for tea?”

“More gained a taste for something else. Please be aware, my sweet, keeping me waiting is going to have severe consequences for you,” his slick smile betrayed the intentions he couldn’t speak aloud in public. 

His lover had a positively impish little grin as he settled back into his chair, clearly burrowing in for a long stay. 

“Well then. You’ll have plenty of time to think of a suitable punishment, won’t you?”

Crane used his time and his wicked brain effectively, judging how Stephen had kicked and squealed underneath him. But even after he’d delivered on his promise, an overwhelming kind of tenderness had taken hold of him, an ache that he felt physically down to his fingertips. Even though they were both panting and filthy, nothing would do until he’d spent an unbelievable amount of time down between Stephen’s lean thighs, lavishing his arse with his tongue until exhaustion and bliss overcame his love and he’d sunken into a slack muscled, peaceful sleep. 

Even after that, Crane stayed awake, moving back up to the pillows, Stephen reaching out to him even in his sleep, only settling again when Crane had let him rest his head on his chest and throw a skinny arm across his belly. Like even unconscious, he needed to know his lover was close. 

Crane watched him sleep for a while, stroking his copper curls gently enough not to wake him but enough that he hoped Stephen was feeling comfort from it. He knew how often his little witch had bad dreams and he found himself praying they were sweet tonight. Judging by the ghost of a smile still clinging to his lover’s sleep slack lips, Crane got his wish. 

By the time he was ready to drift off, he’d won the argument with himself and made his decision. He’d speak to Merrick in the morning after Stephen left for work. 

Merrick had certainly seemed less than impressed by the idea but he had his task and he would do it well, as Crane knew he would. It was barely evening on the same day he’d given him his instructions that he found Crane, sitting and filling out balance sheets in his study. 

“Think I’ve found a winner here, sir.”

“Already?” Crane looked up, though he did admit he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t stopped being so impressed by his friend’s efficiency after all this time, “Good man.”

“Ain’t exactly hard, sir,” Merrick shrugged, “There’s always someone trying to offload a few down in the lower end of town.” 

“And this one fits the bill?”

“To the letter. Would have been drowned by the end of the day if I didn’t buy him off the bloke. The rest had already gone but this one must’ve been the runt.”

“Well, so is Stephen,” Crane smiled wryly, “My thanks, Merrick.” 

“As long as you remember my conditions,” one heavy eyebrow lifted in warning, “I ain’t being left responsible for that creature. You’re the one wrapped around the shortarse’s finger, this is your doing.”

Crane rolled his eyes, “If this goes down as well as I think it will, Merrick, I don’t think you’ll have much to worry about. And how could they even be harder to look after than me, in any case?”

“Well, I don’t like a boring life, do I?” Merrick muttered, “Go on then, little scrap’s in a box on the kitchen table. Have at it.”

Crane did, he’d spent the day giving a lot of thought as to how he’d give Stephen his gift. Presents had often caused arguments between the two of them, Stephen being as stubbornly independent as he was, despite the fact that he was fucking someone with two titles and more money than sense. Crane was proud his lover hadn’t become spoiled, that clearly Crane’s personality and company were keeping him around rather than any monetary gain. 

But he did wish the stubborn bugger would let him buy him some decent suits. 

This particular gift, however, Crane didn’t expect Stephen would have much of a problem with. It had barely cost a pittance, for one, and it was really more of an investment than anything else. Hell, if he still got a pout on about it, Crane would let him pay him back for it. As long as he accepted it. As long as he was happy. 

So the box, thankfully not moving or making any noise, was put in the adjoining room. Crane wanted Stephen happy, satisfied and in his debt before he told him what he’d done, definitely not in the sour, exhausted mood he always came back from work with. 

Fortunately, Crane was very good at untangling the mess Stephen was usually reduced to after a long, hard day keeping the magical peace. As soon as he heard the door open and the clunk of weary footsteps into the hall, he was up and on his feet, all work abandoned on his desk along with any thoughts that weren’t wholly focused on his love. 

He met him before he’d even managed to take his coat off, needing only a few seconds to note the dark circles under his eyes, the heavy downward pull of his thin shoulders, the hollowness of his face and the uncombed, windswept curls. 

“Lucien…” he breathed as soon as he saw him, as if his presence alone was some kind of balm. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” Crane smiled, gathering him up in his arms gladly. 

“Ugh, don’t,” Stephen groaned, “I probably reek.” 

He did, of smog and dust and sweat but Crane was long past caring. By the time he was through, he’d smell of only him. 

“You’re fine. Come on, let’s get rid of all this…” he began removing his coat eagerly, casting it to the floor without a care before starting in on his shirt. 

Some of the tiredness left Stephen’s face, replaced by keen interest, “We’re eager tonight.”

“For you? Always,” Crane grinned, finally giving up on restraint entirely and sweeping Stephen up into his arms. 

The younger man yelped and clung to his shirt, one shoe off and one still on, shirt halfway open, “Lucien! Put me down, you brute…”

“Get down yourself,” Crane challenged, knowing fine well that he couldn’t and setting off for the bedroom with little concern.

Stephen did squirm but made little progress before he was dumped onto the lavish bed, at least now entirely shoeless and with the buckle of his trousers undone. Crane practically pounced on him, licking along his collarbone as the rest of Stephen’s closed were whipped off his body by some unspoken magical command and tossed overboard. 

Clearly Stephen was braced- and eager- to be tossed around and played with like a small bird in the paws of a cat, reading Crane’s impatience. So there was a definite note of surprise in the way he moaned as his lover turned suddenly gentle, holding his face and kissing him deeply before he did anything else, thumbs tracing over the hollow cheeks and sharp bones under his skin. He felt Stephen’s body lose all of the day’s tension to that kiss, moulding to fit him gratefully. 

Crane’s own clothes went next, thrown to the floor to tangle with Stephen’s, before he moved back over him to cradle his face again, letting their bodies press against each other so their shared arousal was obvious. 

“You’re quite beautiful,” he observed with a crooked smile, running his hands through coppery curls and stroking the hard, unshaven line of his jaw, “Did you know that, sweet boy?”

“You’ve told me,” Stephen murmured, still clearly confused about the turn this had taken but straining so hard towards the tenderness being offered, “What, no chains? No riding crop, no gag, no iron in my arse?” 

Crane smirked, “I can give you all that and more if you really want it but...I don’t know. You’ve had a long day and I’m rather charmed by the idea of just taking care of you right now. How does that sound?”

Stephen relaxed, his golden eyes turning soft as he clearly let go of the idea that Crane was luring him into a false sense of security so he could spring some new depravity on him, “That...that sounds wonderful, Lucien.”

“Then it’s yours, darling.”

Crane was a man who kept his promises. 

Stephen had seemed to like the treatment he’d gotten the other night so Crane rolled him onto his stomach with a pillow underneath his already half hard cock and turned his clever tongue’s full attention onto his lover’s arse, eating him out with a deep and wanting kind of greed, letting Stephen write and wail and rut against the pillow so hard he’d likely have a friction burn on his thighs in the morning. Only when he’d spent himself twice, thoroughly ruining the pillow, and was whimpering that he could hardly bear any more, did Crane drag him back and press into his dutifully prepared entrance. After a frantic nod from Stephen, he made love to him eagerly and thoroughly, moving only his hips so the rest of his long body could stay pressed against his love’s, feeling electricity everywhere they touched, kissing and licking and whispering ragged words of devotion into his mouth until they finished in the same moment. There were tears on Stephen’s eyelashes by the time he was through with him. 

“I love you,” he panted, voice trembling, clinging to him tightly like he was afraid to let go. 

“I love you too,” Crane smiled, kissing his forehead and holding him back until he felt the grip of his fingers ease and calm settle over his sweet boy, the intensity of it all ebbing away and leaving him limp and trembling but secure. 

He wanted to lie there for as long as possible, maybe forever, just holding Stephen in his arms but he had no faith in that wooden box’s ability to hold his gift and dreaded to think of the carnage that might lead to. So instead, he gave Stephen’s hair a last loving stroke and moved to rise. 

“Oh, I forgot to mention, I’m expecting a visitor shortly. Would you mind dressing?”

Stephen’s blissful expression turned incredulous in less than a second, “What? A visitor? Lucien, I look like I was just pushed out the door of a bloody knocking shop!”

Crane laughed, “God, you’ve been spending too much time with Miss Saint, the mouth on you. Don’t worry, they don’t stand on ceremony, just throw something on. One of the robes would do.”

“Are you joking?” Stephen yelped, bolting upright and scrambling for his clothes, his shirt and trousers pulling themselves on almost as quickly as they’d left. 

Crane, meanwhile, just shrugged into one of his silk robes, the black one with the lavish gold embroidery. 

“Who is it?” Stephen was frantically stuffing his shirt into his trousers, the sleeves still loose and flapping around his skinny wrists, “Ms Hart?” 

“Oh no,” Lucien hummed casually, “I think she was going to the theatre tonight, actually, I charged her with telling me if it was any good and we’d go on Saturday if it is.”

Stephen frowned before his eyes bulged with sudden horror, hands freezing rather comically with one down the front of his trousers, “Um...Lucien. It’s nothing to do with the, uh...the idea we talked about when we were very,  _ very  _ drunk about inviting some of your, ah...Soho friends over…”

Crane gave him a devilish grin, “No, I wouldn’t spring that on you without asking but interesting to know that’s still rattling around in your mind. Sweet boy, don’t worry, just sit on the bed and I’m going to let them in. I think they’re quite excited to meet you, actually.”

Stephen frowned, puzzlement clear on his face, “Lucien, what the devil is going on?”

Crane just waved for him to sit down and wait, sweeping out of the room. Stephen was left to sit with his complete confusion for a few moments before his lover’s head reappeared around the door, a worryingly excited grin on his face. 

“Now, I was thinking about what you told me the other day about when you were younger,” he smiled like a child about to confess to some mischief, “And how you have all these long days where you’re running having to do anything by yourself…”

“Yes?” Stephen prompted warily. 

“Well...please don’t be angry?”

He pushed the door open fully and something very small and very furry and very, very excitable burst into the room and promptly flung itself up onto the bed and at Stephen. Crane grimaced, certain for a second that this had all been a terrible mistake and Merrick had brought home some kind of feral beast, before he moved closer and heard Stephen’s delighted laughter. 

The puppy was licking his lover’s face with abandon, enough that Crane felt a little jealous, it’s stub of a tail wagging frantically as it stood on his chest. And Stephen looked about as happy as Crane could ever remember seeing him. He was ruffling it’s fluffy, pointed ears, trying to talk to it through the flurry of kisses he was getting. Seeing it now, it had to be some kind of collie, probably mixed in with a handful of other London mutt breeds, all sharp, upturned ears and patches of black over a mostly white body of almost curling hair. 

Crane couldn’t have given a fig, as long as Stephen was happy with him. And, apparently, he really was. 

“You got a dog?” Stephen finally managed to wrestle the puppy into enough of a hug that he could speak clearly, his eyes bright and full of joy. 

“I got  _ you  _ a dog,” Crane corrected, folding his arms and smiling in triumph, “If you’ll have him.”

Stephen’s jaw dropped and for a moment it looked like he might burst into tears, “He’s...he’s for me?” 

“You always wanted one,” Crane’s expression softened lovingly, “And, quite frankly my sweet, I’m quite tired of seeing you not getting the small happinesses you deserve. So I sent Merrick out to find a little one who needed a home and needed someone who’d care about him very much. So you can’t get annoyed with me spending money, the bugger would have ended up in the Thames if we hadn’t taken him in.”

Stephen’s face immediately crumbled in sympathy, cuddling the dog closer like the threat still stood and stroking it’s ears, which it seemed to love. 

“I don’t know if I’m allowed a pet in my rooms…” he mumbled, some of his old stubbornness pushing back in. 

“Then keep him here. It’ll mean you come home more often.”

Crane got to watch as his lover gave in and smiled helplessly, burying his face in the puppy’s fur. He did look every inch the small boy he had been, uncomplicatedly and unequivocally happy. Not that he was particularly looking forward to having the thing running around the flat, but seeing Stephen like this was more than worth it. 

“He needs a name,” he hummed, coming and sitting next to his lover on the bed, who was now tickling the puppy’s stomach. 

“Well...is it too on the nose to just call him Magpie?” Stephen grinned crookedly. 

“Yes! Yes it is!”

“Oh come on, he’s black and white and everything!” Stephen laughed at Crane’s expression, “It’s perfect for him! And he’s my dog, as you so kindly pointed out, and I can call him what I like.” 

“Ugh,” Crane rolled his eyes, “Fine. But I’m not hollering that down the bloody street when he’s out for a piss.”

“I’ll train him,” Stephen promised, delightedly holding the little thing up so it could attack Crane’s cheek with the same overenthusiastic licks, giggling at his immediate expression of disgust, “See? He likes you already!”

“And I’m tolerating him less,” Crane growled warningly but he couldn’t deny it was rather sweet how the puppy immediately got tired and curled up in Stephen’s lap, settling like he’d belonged there all along. 

Once Magpie was snoring rather loudly, Stephen leaned over and kissed Crane deeply, still smiling widely, “Thank you, Lucien. Honestly, thank you so much.”

“Well, you’re very welcome,” Crane flushed a little, nudging him gently, “I can’t fix everything for you but...well, I can right some wrongs at least.”

“You do,” Stephen promised, “I’m so much happier now I have you in my life.” He seemed like he was going to say more but simply ran out of words, just looking at Lucien with a gentle, loving expression. 

“What?” Crane smiled, leaning in to brush his lips against Stephen’s. 

“You’re just…” he chuckled, golden eyes bright and adoring, “You’re full of surprises, Lord Crane.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider leaving a comment if you liked this!! I would really love to write more for this fandom so if you have any ideas, feel free to send them to my Tumblr, @mollymauk-teafleak


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